


Wings Sprout on Broken Backs

by elffyness



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Drabbles, F/M, Fluff, Hawke in the Fade, Pining, PoC, Tension, hehe, miscellaneous prompts, one horny one tho smh, romanceeee
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:02:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28053609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elffyness/pseuds/elffyness
Summary: A collection of all my Sebastian Vael and Helena Hawke works, from short three pagers to some slightly nsfw stuff~Notes: Helena Hawke is Chinese written by me, an Indonesian-Chinese mixed person <3 There are allusions to a fictional country named Judian that I incorporated into Thedas in order to canonically give her the cultural richness that she deserves.
Relationships: Female Hawke/Sebastian Vael
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	1. Meghan Vael's Locket

He tried to ignore its shine at first.

Jade green, reflecting off swords in the heat of battle. Glinting, when the sun burst through overcast skies over the beaten coast. It shone beneath the splatters of blood, warm upon her vibrant skin. Sometimes it was obscured by strands of ink black hair, curling around the locket or framing it like the sea.

It hardly seemed out of place amongst Helena’s armor, but each day Sebastian found his eyes drawn by the necklace's magnetic pull.

His growing obsession with the little thing came with a price, paid in the form of a club to the head during a brawl with some thugs.

The necklace had flashed at him as he fell to the ground, rising off of Helena’s chest as she swung her staff. He felt the stone hit him hard, further impacting his skull and sending a shudder of pain through his back. Gray sky turned to black as throbs took over the quiet of his mind. Knocked off his feet and flattened into the cobblestone, his head ached in ways he’d forgotten, a familiar sensation, though this time, from the outside in.

“Sebastian!”

He heard a thunk as the last enemy fell, foggy to his senses.

All he could manage was a groan from his winded lungs, his cerulean eyes screwed tight against the blurring world and pounding footsteps. It turned out he needn’t worry, as ice cold palms stung his cheeks, relieving and electrifying all in one touch. A sizzle whispered in his ears, along with a murmured apology.

“What happened to you?” Helena asked, and if he had cracked an eyelid open he knew he would see her brows furrowed as her brown eyes scrutinized every single mark on his skin, searching for the ones that were out of place.

Sebastian’s heart palpated alongside the prickling of his skin, responding to the charge Helena drew into her hands. Healing. She would heal him.

Relief was instant and so was his stare because as soon as she touched her long fingers to his forehead, all he could see was her.

Lips pursed, a few hairs spilling from her bun. Mildly irritated. Flushed.

She was beautiful.

But something else...

“Where did you get that necklace?”

Sebastian couldn’t stop himself from asking.

Confusion appeared on her face, the scrunch of her nose and the flick of her eyes against his before she returned to her work. 

“In the market for some new accessories, Seb?”

He knew she was deflecting (the woman was proving to be quite the guarded companion) but a chuckle bloomed from his belly, warm and sprouting fire red tiger lilies on his breath.

“It looks familiar. That’s all.”

Hands stumbled in their machinations, though the hum of magic resumed in seconds.

“I actually looted it off one of the mercenaries you hired me to kill.”

“The Flint Company?”

“Yeah.”

Sebastian pursed his lips, a number of thoughts running through his mind. The healing continued for a few minutes longer, little curses peppered into the companionable silence between the two.

“Helena?”

“Hm.”

“I have an odd request of you,”

“Is it a naughty one?” a voice called, a few meters off from where he laid. The mage scowled in Isabela’s direction as a giggle tickled Sebastian’s throat. Above him Helena tinged pink.

“What is it?” she asked, her tone curt.

His eyes found the glinting gem again.

“Could I see that necklace of yours?”

The confusion was immediate, her cool hands ceasing their glow and coming to rest in her lap. She found his gaze, chilling dark against bright light, a sea of words he knew she wouldn’t voice.

Instead, she reached behind her, loosening the red chord that bound the locket and removed it from her neck, their fingertips brushing as she released it to him.

Still on his back, Sebastian dangled the amulet above his head. In closer view, the locket appeared to be made of jade, a material common amongst the pillars that towered in his childhood home. Serpents curled along the surface of the charm, the proud Starkhaven symbol glaring in the rays of the sun. His ear tingled with contact as Helena’s thighs shifted beside him.

“I assumed it was from Starkhaven. Can’t really tell though… Easterners and their dragon obsession.”

From beneath the necklace Sebastian smirked at her.

“You were right.”

Wide fingers tested its textures, a set of out of place bumps ridging along his thumb. Instinctively he rubbed over them, the pattern ingrained in his brain as he felt the mechanics give way under pressure.

With a click, the locket snapped open, revealing a smooth hollow inside. The Vael family crest lined its back, inlaid in gold, two twisting serpents’ fangs piercing a sun.

Breath shot from his body like an arrow, burying itself in his cupped hands.

“Seb?”

He had known it was a possibility. A reason that locket looked so familiar and made him conjure the smell of burning candle wax and dusty furs. Cardamom spice and expensive perfume filled his nose, as if she were right there beside him once again.

  
  


Ma’s pinched frown and upturned nose soon followed, sending a chill down his spine.

“It was my Mother’s,” his voice came out rougher than he expected, smaller too.

The knee beside him tensed.

“Are you certain?”

Helena’s tones sounded as sharp as usual, but this time molten metal coated her blade.

Sebastian tilted the locket towards her, showing her the secret heirloom she had been wearing around her neck for almost a week now. Light bounced from it to her face, illuminating the earthy browns in her eyes.

They seemed to drip into caramel, alongside understanding.

“I’m so sorry.”

Sorry… An interesting sentiment in this case.

“You needn’t be. She is by the Maker’s side now… no need for her frivolous heirlooms and pompous jewelry.”

“Still…. It was wrong of me to wear it. Especially so soon after--”

Sebastian cut her off.

“You didn’t know lass. You couldn’t have.” A twitch pulled the prince’s full lips into a gentle smile, despite the twist in his chest. Clever woman that she was, Helena’s disbelief was visible in her squint. 

Rising from the ground with a free hand, Sebastian held the locket between them, leaning in.

“Starkhaven royals have jewelry that signify their status, usually engraved with their crest inside secret compartments. Opening them is complex, unique to each item commissioned for their family member. I only guessed this combination because I had stolen it from her as a babe.”

“Troublemaker, were you?”

“My parents certainly thought so,” he smirked, though it was more of a grimace this time.

They sat like that for a moment, the necklace between them.

“You should have it back.”

Sebastian looked towards Helena, his brows raising at the proposition. She met his stare evenly, burning intensity crackling in her eyes like the lightning she so often commanded in battle. The tug of her cheek made the beauty marks on her face jolt, her narrow brows knitting together. 

“It is your mother’s after all…. I’m sure she would want you to have it.,”

An array of memories slipped through the cracks just then, a stinging cheek and a cold room, guards posted outside his door, the only respite from his tears being an itchy blanket and a meager few hours of sleep. The spicy scent assaulted his senses now, threatening to overpower and suffocate him.

Yelling, plates shattering, a muffled sob, Thaddeus’ stern face bandaging his wound in the low candlelight… 

Jingling windchimes interrupted his thoughts, the product of a light breeze flowing through the market square. 

Cardamom gusted away, overtaken by moon peach blossoms, herbal tea and the metallic flavor of blood.

A hand. There’s a hand on him. Thin over wide, but power all the same in its grip on his.

Helena’s warm skin now obscured his view of the green monstrosity, a golden obstruction to the colliding memories in his mind.

It took all the strength he had to blink back the water that had begun to pool in his eyes.

“No. She wouldn’t,”

Helena didn’t say anything to this, and for that, Sebastian was thankful. A simple nod was all he received in turn, black hair twisting in the gentle breeze that ebbed her scent in his direction. It had carved a path into his lungs, and as if he had never done it before in his life, Sebastian breathed.

He pocketed the necklace.

Without warning he stood, still imbalanced from his head injury despite Helena’s best attempts at healing. She looked up at him now, the slant of her brows making her look much smaller than she usually did on the battlefield. He extended his hand to her, pleased when she accepted without question.

“Come on Hel, I’ll buy you a new necklace. Something much nicer than this dusty old relic.”

  
  


Protests burst from Helena but they fell on deaf ears, as all Sebastian could focus on was the filtered rays of sunlight pouring from the clouds above, illuminating the path in front of him as he walked forward into the warmth.


	2. Breaking Vows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seb confesses something and Helena accepts him as he is.

As the moon took its seat atop the stars, Kirkwall’s temperature performed its nightly plummet, blanketing the rooftops with thick sheets of frost. Helena Hawke did not mind. Her fingers were frequently dusted with white fractals as she fought her way through the streets of Low Town, or spun snowflake flurries for Sandal’s entertainment. Even now they froze, fisted beneath her tightly crossed arms.

Cold was natural, welcome, its long-fingered reach one that numbed her to painful inflictions from the cruel world that threatened to collapse upon her with every passing day. With practice, its shield was impenetrable.

It was a permanent state too, so long as temperatures were maintained, and as Helena had found, all things could be frozen: fennec fur, lyrium crystals, dragon scales... people. In their icey fixtures, they would never change, snapshots of still, captured, life.

So, when on this chilly night in the deserted streets of Kirkwall, Helena felt the onslaught of gales halted, her heart clenched in fear.

Frigid wind continued to snake through the Chantry courtyard, yet, she found herself protected from its bite by the figure before her. Sebastian was broad, managing to tower a head over her, his silhouette a picture of safety. Cerulean blues pleaded with her, bright against sepia tones that had cooled in the moonlight, offering rectitude from the blizzard that had become a second skin.

It was not the first time he halted the flow. Every day he proved a stronger and stronger barrier to the frost that guarded her. It was… different. 

He was different.

Sebastian’s fingers radiated warmth when they closed around hers, releasing the iron cross of her arms and causing her lungs to shrivel when she allowed herself to rub the callouses that ridged there. Tingles had begun, as they always did, which she realized could not be confined to each part of her he touched, but traveled throughout her body, awakening adrenaline in her veins and inspiring palpitations in her chest. 

Her breath shuddered between tightly pressed lips, eyes falling out of focus as he spoke his flaming request in hushed tones.

“...re you thinking? … Helena?”

She stared, mouth slightly parted as she struggled to process what the Prince had asked of her, the ice around her fingers growing slippery with liquid. Sebastian strengthened his grip around them in support, ignoring the water that streamed away at his searing warmth.

“You’re certain?” she managed to breathe. 

He paused before leaning in, his forehead meeting hers as his eyes slid closed, wind gusting around the pocket of silence between them. Helena shivered at the contact. Maker, he was so warm. Soothing heat infected her, lulling her into a feeling of security so strong that after a moment, she allowed her own eyes to close, the simple feeling of their joined hands and foreheads her guide through the darkness. After a beat, she opened them to Sebastian’s burning gaze.

“If you would have me.”

Helena’s throat bobbed as she swallowed the emotions that overflowed within her, snowflakes falling from her lashes for a reason she couldn’t quite place. There was too much. Too much she wanted to say, too much she wanted to do. 

_ You do not have to do this if you do not want to. _

_ You have nothing to prove. _

_ You are not lost or misguided if this is the right choice for you. _

_ You are per-- _

But all she could do was nod, hurriedly as she stepped into him, locking her arms around his neck as he embraced her. Sebastian’s body seemed to sigh with relief as he pulled her tight, shuddering as she weaved her fingers into his burnt red locks. The rhythm of his pounding heart thumped against her chest and Helena let out a breath through her nose, nuzzling into him.

“Do not say that as if you were unworthy,” she managed to mutter, drawing a sharp laugh from him. Sebastian grinned at her expression when she recoiled to look at him, her brows knit in an accusatory frown.

“What?”

“It’s…” he started, but had to bite back another smile. “It’s just you, Helena.” 

A blush unfurled over her face as she tried to look away, her efforts foiled by the archer’s hand cupping her cheek and guiding her back towards him. She let her stare return, her half-hearted glare faltering when she laid her eyes on him, the moon illuminating a crown of light behind him. 

“How can I put it into words?” Sebastian caressed her cheek with his thumb, “You… challenge me. You push me to question my teachings, my past, myself. Really,” a soft laugh escaped him. “If it hadn’t been for you, I would be a sworn brother of the Chantry, content to let the world burn to ashes around me. But you’ve awakened me. You’ve shown me that power is not something to fear.” 

Helena stiffened before melting into his touch, ice seeping away in droplets. She was silent as she struggled to retrieve the words that yearned to be said, expressions passing over her face in waves. “I...have not given you anything you never had.” She whispered, liquid in his arms. “You are who you are Sebastian… and you are…” her throat almost closed to stop her, but she resisted. She was tired of the prison she had built for herself.

With a final push, she swallowed.

“You are perfect.”

It seemed her eyes said everything else and more, Sebastian’s clearing into pools of brightest blue, an empty sky on a perfect summer's day. Full lips spread into a honeyed smile, his brows slanting as her chest hummed with freedom from the truth she had chained so tightly to her flesh.

Helena gave a tiny smile that only grew as Sebastian heaved a sigh, adjusting his stance to tuck her closer into his body. Her heart blossomed as she buried into him, inhaling clouds of sandalwood, candle wax, and perfumed oils. So, so warm. “What is it?” she grinned, eyes sealed shut. An enticing hum passed her ear as she felt his hand trail through her hair.

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

And as they had passed her lips countless times before, she uttered that challenge once more.

“Do it then.” 


	3. Prove It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nsfw!!!! minors SKIP this one! 
> 
> ya'll need ANDRASTE fr

“Prove it,”

Two little words. 

Two little words that racked around Sebastian Vael’s mind as he stared across the table at his dark haired lover. The chatter of the Hanged Man was nothing but white noise in contrast with the phrase, spoken by his partner seconds before they pushed through the rusted door. Helena Hawke’s earthy eyes had bored into him, those serious set brows intensifying the weight of her words, the burning lick of her tone not lost to his trained ears. 

_ “Prove it.” _

_ A wicked smile spread on his face, a hand braced against the door. _

_ “Here?”  _

_ She mirrored his expression, a dominant finger dragging up his chest to his throat, the bob of his adam’s apple parting her lips. _

_ “If you like. I doubt you can.” _

_ His free hand closed over hers now, wide and flat. An assertive grip drew air from her as he brushed his full lips over her warm skin, stares never wavering. _

_ “You’ll regret those words soon, lass.” _

The heat of their exchange persisted on his ears now, and he watched as she took a swig from a mug of ale, lingering on her half-lowered lashes that peered over the rim at their companions. Though the drink obscured her face, red splotches had begun to bloom on her high cheeks, a beautiful warmth that highlighted her dark beauty marks.

A boyish smirk tugged at his lips at the sight, the little flame stoked by her challenge sparking with new embers in his belly.

“Okay!” Varric’s voice broke through his focus, calling the table’s attention to the head chair. The dwarf had propped his feet on the table, a shiny gold sovereign flipping in his fingers as he spoke. “You guys know the rules. No cheating unless you can get away with it, no saying you have to go to the bathroom to get out of a turn, and losers buy the drinks. Everything else is fair game.” 

Cards slid in his direction as Isabela dealt, their striped red surfaces eliciting thoughts that made his breath draw short.

Sebastian cleared his throat, calling Helena’s gaze from behind her cards. He reveled in the way her pupils widened as she watched him bite his thumb, his teeth light but the message clear. It was as if she were hypnotized. Lips parted like petals, a little rush of air passing through, all Helena’s tells that, to Sebastian, may as well have been painted in block letters across her face; And he wasn’t the only one who noticed. As if she had a radar for debauchery, Isabela leaned over from next to Helena, resting her cheek against the mage’s shoulder.

“I spy interesting thoughts,” she trailed off, grinning at the clench of Helena’s jaw as she folded her cards away from Isabela’s prying eyes.

“You mean you’ll spy my winning hand,” she replied, her velvet voice unusually thick to the unsuspecting friend. To Sebastian though, that huskiness was the hallmark of words of worship, brushing against his ears before the graze of her teeth.

Bela hummed but didn’t press further, perhaps ferreting out that if she pressed too hard the game would end before it began. It didn’t stop her from accosting Sebastian with a look, a curious shine to her eyes before she returned to the game.

Sebastian left Helena with one last intense gaze, his thumb catching his lower lip in a small drag before he returned to his cards. There were, after all, two games to play. 

Several rounds passed without event, Sebastian electing for apparent mercy towards the object of his affections. Helena had settled a bit more now, her focus on her hand rather than the tabletop conversation. It was little more than a bluff, however, as Sebastian had more than enough experience to know when he was being undressed by someone with their eyes. Nonchalantly, he stretched his arms above his head, savouring Helena’s quiet inhale. She was his favorite book to read, the kind where he had memorized each letter a thousand times.

“Oh, Sebastian, it’s your turn!” 

Merrill’s voice rang and he looked towards her with a crooked grin. 

“I’ll raise.” 

He tossed a small bag of silvers towards the tower of coins they had built, protesting shouts ringing out all too late as the pile came crashing down, sending the little metal pieces scattering around the table. Boos were hissed and a flutter of cards thrown in his face as the table lamented.

“Ah, oops?” he offered, rubbing his neck. Varric scowled at him.

“You know, for an archer you sure have a shoddy aim.”

“I didn’t think they would fall over like that.”

Movement to his left drew his attention, as he realized Fenris had begun to aid his plight by gathering coins which had fallen on the tabletop, a small collection forming in his arms. Sebastian almost felt guilty as his friend frowned in his direction. It had, after all, been no mistake that those coins came tumbling down.

“Well, don’t just sit there, clean up your mess!” Varric sighed, gesturing under the table. He flicked his gaze towards Helena.

“Oh, I will.”

Without waiting for a response he ducked underneath the heavy table, his head brushing its wooden underside. A few coins sparkled at him in the low light, most of them appearing to have fallen on top of the table rather than the ground. Sebastian’s eyes scanned the series of legs, ignoring the stickiness of the floor. There was only one kind of moisture he was interested in feeling.

He wet his lips, crawling forward.

_ “You’re lying.” _

_ Sebastian smiled at her, a twinkle in his eyes and love surging through him at her refusal to believe him. _

_ “The Maker teaches us to be truthful in all our dealings. I would never lie to you mo ghràidh.” She laughed, vulnerable as they walked, so unlike the Helena that led them through death defying battles and missions into the Deep Roads. He tightened his hand on hers, feeling the need to protect that coy smile and glow in her eyes. _

_ “You really expect me to believe you could get someone drenched without even touching them there?” Her head tilted back with a grin, black hair cascading freely down her back. “I knew you were a debaucherous man but I doubt that kind of thing would work on me.” _

_ He hummed, the blues in his eyes dancing as they approached the Hanged Man. _

_ “I wouldn’t be so certain if I were you. I’m quite skilled in the practice...Not even you are immune.”  _

_ As he braced his hand on the door, he saw the pink of her tongue trace her lips, her mischievous glance burning him not a second later.  _

_ “Prove it.” _

Sebastian drew in a breath, now knelt before Helena. He admired the sight for a moment before curling his fingers around her leather clad calf. It flexed under his guide as she jolted above the table. Sebastian bit his tongue. Beneath his hand she was tense, and he longed to peel away her clothes and lay kisses upon every inch of flesh exposed to him.

But this was a different game. A waiting one.

Nudging her legs apart, Sebastian was faced with the tight curvature of her leggings, muscled thighs framing his view. His breath left his body, mixing with the heat and sweat permeating the bar. Commotion continued around him as he began to trace his powerful fingers up the inner seam of her leg. He chuckled to himself as he inched his way up, spreading his hand over her thigh. 

She squirmed in response to his touch, her muscle flexing beneath his grip. A curse rang out from above, along with the thump of a fist against the table. All together though, she remained still; evidence of her commitment to holding out against his wicked machinations. His love was nothing if not competitive.

A boot clad foot kicked against his arm and he held back a laugh, his heart pounding. There was no doubt in his mind that Helena was getting flustered: already her actions elicited thoughts of dark rooms and all too hurried kisses that unveiled swaths of skin between them. The image endeared him, pushing him to lean forward and place his full lips upon her thigh. He sank into her, knitting his brows together as he felt his arousal building. Sebastian may have been the perpetrator of this game, but every machination against Helena affected him as much as her. 

_ Maker’s breath. _

With a shake of his head, he squeezed her thighs again, this time more aggressively, a cruel smile spreading his lips at her near silent squeak.

That was more like it.

Sebastian was methodical as he began to lay kisses on her legs, increasing the height with each one. He savored the ever growing tension in her muscles as he inched towards the growing heat between her legs. He refrained from a pitiful coo as she tried to spread them as inconspicuous as possible, only for him to halt above where she wanted him most. Dark lips crooked into a little smirk and Sebastian sighed, the pressure of his breath closing the distance and she jolted, her foot stamping into the ground. He bit his lip, hardening at her force.

“Perhaps soon, Tiger Lily,” he muttered, leaving her with one last squeeze. He crept out of the underside of the table, his lungs grateful for the cooler air. 

“Took you long enough,” Fenris mumbled as Sebastian adjusted in his seat, running a hand through his hair to ensure each auburn lock was still in place. 

“It’s hard to see down there,” he answered, his voice thick, resisting the temptation to search Helena’s face for a reaction. Instead, he held up one of the stray silvers he had managed to pick up on his way out. “I found one at least!”

His friend shook his head, turning back to the mug he had been nursing. 

“Step out. You look feverish.”

Without thinking, Sebastian put a hand on his face, the heat burning through his cheeks. Fenris was right. If he looked in a mirror now Sebastian was sure he would find his face had turned redder than the blaze of a chantry candle. No surprise, considering the pulsing tightness that coursed through his lower regions. Thank the Maker for long jackets.

He chanced a glance in Helena’s direction, revealing nothing but a widely spread hand of cards, her long fingers propping them up like a shield. All that was visible was her eyes which were staring down, her brows marred in a heavy frown.

Flustered.

Embarrassed.

Horny.

The tips of pink gave her away. 

His mouth dried, adrenaline surging through him.

“I think I’m gonna get some air,” he announced. The disruption caused a few stares in his direction.

“You feeling okay Choir Boy?” 

Sebastian smiled hurriedly.

“A bit light-headed. Nothing some fresh air can’t fix.”

There was little protest since he insisted they could continue without him and Sebastian made his way to the back exit of the bar. He leaned to and fro as he sidestepped various patrons, narrowly avoiding spilling drinks and rambunctious fights.

The back exit of the Hanged Man was isolated compared to the front, partly thanks to Varric’s appropriation of it as a secret passageway to his room. It was rare to run into anyone other than the crew: perfect for much-needed isolation. Cool air clung to his skin as he stood outside, his hot breath puffing clouds of steam. Sebastian took a second to close his eyes and tilt back against the wall, his lips curling in a smile.

Heavens, that woman.

Helena Hawke was something else. 

By all accounts he was a changed man, his debaucherous days laid to rest behind him, but never could a suitor string him so carefully under their command than her. Any outsider would assume that he was the one in control tonight, toying with Helena’s body till she burst, but this was all a part of her design. The mage knew he would never back down from her challenge, all too eager to prove his talents to the woman he loved. Now, he paid the price.

Sebastian’s pants felt as though they were growing tighter and tighter with every second she wasn’t on him. His skin was craving hers, crawling with goosebumps and heat all at the same time, the laces of his trousers begging for her quick fingers to undo them and wrap her delicious, pink little tongue all over his throbbing need. Hands pulled at his hair and ran down his face, the metal of coin covering the smell of her leather as he buried his face in them. Even in the darkness her eyes haunted him, that metallic sultry stare adding fuel to his ever growing fire. Maker how she could unravel him with just that gaze. 

He tightened his calloused hands into fists, a hoarse chuckle escaping him. 

When they were done here, Sebastian swore he would fuck her into the next age.

The last of the night air in his lungs and his cock raging harder than ever, the archer made his way back inside, his hand trailing along the lowlit walls of the corridor. He had just rounded the last corner into Varric’s abode when he felt a body crash into his, his arms shooting out to steady the other person.

The moment he had closed his hands around her waist he knew it was her and his eyes jumped to life alongside his beaming smile.

“ _ Mo ghràidh… _ ” he breathed, peering down at Helena, a flustered expression slanting her features. “What are you doing here?”

Sebastian was teasing her yet again, the apparent capturer in their locked embrace. The truth was, the moment she had collided with him he had become her victim, no more than a puppet in her play. Her painted lips curled into a pout as he began to brush his thumb against her back, eyes closing in pleasure.

“I need you,” she groaned, wrapping her body around his. “I can’t take this game anymore, please.”

Tutting sounded from Sebastian’s lips as he quickly turned them against the thin passageway’s walls, nuzzling his nose into her hair as he pinned her by her hip. Inhaling gifted him with smoky scents of incense and lilies. 

Maker, he loved her.

“Now Helena, if I took you right now no questions asked, that would be cheating,” he murmured, peppering affectionate, patient kisses over her head. Her body squirmed beneath him as she whined. A free hand cupped her high cheeks, her lips parted as she watched, ravenous. “We need to make sure that I won fair and square.”

Suddenly, he threaded that hand through her ink black hair, pulling down and forcing her chin high in the air. A pleasurable sigh whisked past his ear as he went for the exposed skin on her throat, its swaths open for markings of all colors and sizes.

“Check for yourself, Brother Sebastian,” she challenged, her voice clear as a bell and powerful as a noblewoman, even as he bit and sucked at her tender flesh. Sebastian broke contact with her skin to look at her, his heart leaping at what he thought he just heard. A smile spread on his lips as he took in her face, eyes watery from arousal, skin flushed with bright red, lips, swollen from her own biting.

“What do you want me to do?”

Her nostrils flared as he rubbed her hip with his thumb.

“I said, ‘check for yourself.’”

“Check what?”

Helena was silent, her eyes burning with desire and feeding into frustration and aggression. It was taking strength for her to stay still against that wall, his hand the only thing keeping her in place. Sebastian leaned in, hovering above her lips, his eyes lowered.

“Spell it out for me, Helena.”

Her lips trembled against his, an internal war between her pride and her hunger. As it always does, desire won.

“I want you to put your fingers inside me and see how drenched they come out,” she whispered, her dark eyes boring into his like a fireball, “and then I need you to put your cock inside me and fuck me Sebastian. Please for the love of the Maker and all that’s holy, fuck me.”

Sweet Andraste.

He was going to need to beg the Maker for forgiveness.

Holding her stare, he let his hand break free from its grasp on her hip. Wasting no time, Sebastian felt along the waistband of her leggings, pulling and reaching his hand beneath. Blood surged through his body as he navigated her smalls with practiced ease, finding her entrance and squeezing his eyes shut with pleasure when he felt that telltale slick wetness. A husky breath escaped him as he trailed a finger through her folds, his love struggling to maintain eye contact as his fingers teased and tested the wetness he had caused.

“Fuck, Helena,” he grunted, his accent thick with arousal. A soft whimper hit his ears as she gave in, her eyes sliding shut as her forehead slumped against his. 

“Stop teasing you aa---h-h-” the rest of her sentence was lost as he pushed in with little resistance. Sebastian watched her reaction like a hawk, desperate to consume every tick of movement on her features. She was so different when it was the two of them, the iron serious expression melting into gilded liquid for him. And he would see it all. 

Sebastian chewed his cheek, his chest tight at the warmth that encapsulated his finger, curling it against her walls. He felt her fingers begin to claw at him, his chest, then his neck as he added another finger. Before him she unraveled, eyes rolling back like a woman possessed, her mouth gaping in silent tongues. Gripping him tightly by the hood she pulled him down, their lips meeting in an explosive kiss. 

She wasted no time in displaying her intentions, her teeth latching onto his lower lip and sucking. A groan shook through him as he increased his force, introducing a third finger that rewarded him with a startled gasp. Their bodies were tight together against the wall now, an unsightly scene that would have decimated the two of their reputations had anyone had the unfortunate luck of wandering into the corridor. 

“Sebastian,” Helena breathed between kisses, tangled hair obscuring her face. “You’re going to...”

Covering her lips with his he began to pound harder, his movements increasing in speed and his free thumb finding the bundle of nerves that would set her head alight with sparks. Cool frost began to tickle at his burning neck as he rubbed tirelessly, Helena’s body losing control as she threw her head back against the wall. He could feel it now, his heart pounding and his need stirring as the orgasm built within his lover. A tangle of praises escaped his lips as he whispered to her, his own mind hazy with desire as he watched the final pin drop and her eyes open wide as saucers. 

She came with the shout of his name, her head falling against his shoulder as he mumbled sweetness into her hair. His heart swelled.

He locked her lips in a final, deep kiss before separating, pressing their foreheads together as they panted. Slowly, he removed his fingers from her, smiling at the fruits of his labor that covered them still. 

“Well, I did prove you wrong,” he mumbled, breaking her stare to look at his fingers. Indulgently, he slipped one in his mouth, curling his tongue around the digit as Helena gazed at him with clouded eyes, desire still burning at her edges. So many words on her lips, but none came out, only able to let her expression carry her demands across. He had pushed her to her end.

“Are you ready to give into me,  _ mo ghràidh?”  _

She bit her lip, spent, but still wanting more.

“Yes.”

Sebastian’s heart filled with affection as he grinned, tightening his arms around her as he bent to whisper in her ear.

“Get your things.”


	4. Halloween: The Ghost in the Attic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a Halloween prompt~ "Sometimes you can hear noises in the Attic. They never last longer than seven minutes." Also nsfw!!

“...and every Winterfell you can catch a glimpse of poor, Wandering Haddy, her twisted legs dragging her limping body through the docks, rapping on the doors for a chance to be let in… before she rips your throat out!!”

Isabela cackled as Merrill squealed, the elf’s sporadic lurch resulting in a revolting screech from the couch legs. Carver shook his head with a smile.

“Maker’s balls, relax Daisy! This is the Hawke manor, not the Hanged Man!” Varric exclaimed from the far side of the couch circle, a wry smile on his face. “Helena might sue you for damages.”

Face pinkening, Merrill scrambled back into her seat, clutching her wine close to her chest. “Oh, I don’t think she would do that. Right Carver?” 

“No,” he said, “but then again, she’s not the one you have to fear in this house.”

The fireplace crackled in the sudden silence, the faces of his sister’s companions curling with interest in his revelation.

“Are you talking about Sandal again?” Fenris mumbled, slight apprehension in his eyes, as if he believed the dwarf was watching them right this very second. A shiver ran down Carver’s shoulders at the thought.

“No, actually.”

_ Though he was probably worth a ghost story all on his own. _

His dark brown eyes travelled between each figure, dragging the suspense as long as he could.

“I’m talking about the ghost of Great, Great, Great, Grandfather Amell.”

From a pile of blankets stationed nearest to the fireplace, Anders scoffed. “Andraste, don’t tell me you believe in ghosts too.” Carver scowled at the mage thumbing the rim of his cup impatiently.

“I find it harder to believe you don’t, considering you share a body with one, spirit boy,” he retorted.

Varric put a stop to the potential bickering with a hand and a couple of heys. His authority as a storyteller had earned him command of their little ghost story circle, at least, for tonight. He slipped into the role naturally, looking powerful in his languid stance.

“Tell us the family history, Junior.”

Carver leaned forward in his chair, propping his elbows on his knees as an intense look crossed his face.

“Growing up, Grandfather Amell was always a mystery to me. He was some dead guy in Kirkwall. Whatever. We lived in Ferelden, so it didn’t matter and it never would. Or so I thought.”

He fought the urge to look over his shoulder, scared of what he might see in the dark. 

“When we got here and Helena and I broke into the manor, we… found some things that had belonged to him,” he said, chills passing over his body as he recalled the dusty plumes of smoke and sticky cobwebs.

“Mixtures. Bottles of… muck. Blood maybe, I don’t know. All I knew was that it was dark red and disgusting.”

“Maybe it's ‘special drink’,” Fenris drawled. Carver paled.

“Trust me, I would’ve taken another ten gallons of ‘special drink’ over whatever this was.”

“So what was it?”

Brow furrowing and neck hot, Carver thought back to that day.

“It was enchanted paint. Horribly toxic when activated. Sister pushed past me at that point and began to rip at the wallpaper, this horrible, clawing noise. Turns out it was sealed thick. It took the force of all our weight to pull it off. Underneath it was the same muck that filled those glass bottles. Runes, everywhere, all painted by Grandfather Amell’s hand.”

“Maybe they were protective runes. You’re telling me you’re scared of a little magic, Carver?”

Isabela placed a hand over Ander’s face to get him to hush, urging Carver to continue.

“These weren’t protective runes. I know protective ones. These were… bad. When they were activated, they would emit an odorless toxin that would make you hallucinate, and eventually kill you.” He closed his eyes. “They were all over the house.”

A gasp sounded from Merrill. “But why would he do such a thing? His whole family lived here!”

“We asked Ma when we returned. Apparently, Grandfather Amell had been stricken with grief after his wife passed naturally from illness. Despite the doctor’s assurances that it was the plague and nothing else, he became convinced that one of the other members of the family had poisoned her so they would be closer in line for the inheritance. So, he wanted to poison them back. His plan never amounted to anything though, since he kicked it a few months later.”

Varric seemed to eye the wall. “So… you guys had those runes removed right?”

“We’re not crazy! It was the first order Helena gave when we moved in. The walls were completely redone.”

The entire group seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief, the thought of death by odorless gas no longer weighing on them.

Isabela perked up though, a confused look on her face. “Wait, you said this was a ghost story. So where’s the ghost?”

“Probably getting ready to make himself known,” he replied. “Grandfather Amell must not have been happy with Sis’ actions. Sometimes, you can hear noises in the attic. It never lasts longer than seven minutes.”

“Why seven?”

“For the seven family members he tried to kill. And now? Seven minutes, every week.” 

And right at that moment, a trickle of dust fell down from the ceiling, twisting in its descent. It hadn’t even made contact with the floor before the sound of shaking and scrapes began, along with what sounded like a ghostly and guttural moan.

“Oh you’ve got to be shitting me—“ 

Carver had no idea who screamed first or how he had wound up in the center of the frantic group huddle, but he buried his head in regardless. He ignored the way Isabela’s hair tickled his nose and how Fenris’ bony elbow jabbed into his lower ribcage. Better here than out there. Sure he was a brave, courageous warrior. But no sword could cut a vengeful ghost.

He tightened his squeeze around Varric as a growl floated above them, praying to the Maker that this seven minutes come to an end as soon as possible.

—

  
  


“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Helena hissed, her head banging against the wall of her room with force. My, this couldn’t be good for the structure of the house. She’d have to remember to check for dust on the floor later. For now, thinking was too far out of reach. Her breath came in hot, short bursts that bloomed on the prince’s skin, Sebastian’s eyes screwed shut in pleasure. She held tight, fingers digging in.

Her toes curled as pressure built and the low growl that left her throat was animalistic. It wouldn’t be long now.

With a finishing groan that could only be described as guttural, the two came to a slow stop, Sebastian’s hand in her hair dropping to cup her face with a cheeky smile.

“Now we’re pushing it lass,” he teased, laying a fluttering kiss on her high cheeks, Helena happy to tip her head back and let the waves, and his lips, wash over her.

“Not at all. Carver’s still enamoured with that tale about Grandfather Amell,” she chuckled. Her hand trailed down his neck in lazy, dragging circles. 

“This may be the cruelest thing you’ve ever done.”

A sigh left her lips. “I know, I’m usually so upstanding. I suppose I’m just feeling a little selfish lately.”

They grinned as their lips met again, Helena sinking into his flavor, savouring each second. She was suddenly met with empty space as he pulled away, a crook to his thick eyebrows. 

“Grandfather Amell isn’t really haunting the house though, is he?”

Helena shook her head decisively.

“No. He couldn’t be. I had the house cleansed and everything.  _ Lao ye  _ is long gone.”

The smiles returned and his lips we on hers again, arms gripping her tight and lifting her off the wall. She laughed as her long black hair swung and they fell together on the bed, her red headed lover next to her in the silk.

“Good. I don’t think it would be appropriate for him to see the multitude of things we get up to in this room,” he turned towards her, propped on his elbow, eyelids lowering, “and that includes…” his voice dropped “what I’m about to do next…”

The lovers were a tangle once again, of quiet laughs and pleasurable squeals, revelling in the sanctity of the moment and the comfort of one another. 

So much so were they consumed, that the two of them failed to notice the single shudder of dust that poured down from the attic floor above them, and the dragging moan that followed. 

  
  



	5. Resilience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Hanukkah prompts~ When was a time your oc almost gave up but managed to push through?

The chantry doesn’t know everything about the fade. Not as much as they claim to. In those Sister run classrooms, where children drooled as they nodded off and scraped colored chalk along the brick and mortar walls, Helena never recalled the sharp voice of her instructors accurately describing the place between worlds. 

As she had been doing since that portal sealed behind the Inquisitor, she let her mind draw on the phrases that kept the dwindled flame in her chest burning in this twisted place. She breathed.

_Mother Paula, with braided hair, professed that the most beautiful light one would ever see was in the Fade, shining gold upon you as the Maker drew you to his side._

Through staggered breaths, Helena lifted her head to the sky. 

Green.

Anger sparked against her chest like flint to steel, followed by a terrifying nothing.

She swallowed, the dryness of her throat cutting like glass as she let her chin drop, blackened dirt engulfing her vision. Inside her chest, her remaining vocal cords strained, their wintery velvet tones lost long before the Nightmare had fallen dead before her. Digging her nails through the dirt, she began again, bloodied strands of crisp black hair dipping into her sight.

_Sister Dan, never complete without a smile, decreeing the soft-spoken greeting of Andraste, who would see to your safe passage with hair of honey and skin of milk._

A pathetic noise passed through her lips, hoarse like a druffalo fallen ill. It was a laugh swallowed by the natural hum of the fade. Even as she decayed it sapped at her.

“Where is the honeyed hair now,” she spat, vision blurring against the skittering of movement beyond twisted, creeping structures.

But as the clouds curled above and her question was met with that damned static noise, Helena lost her anger. Her brown eyes glistened with the little water left in her body as she grit her teeth, curling her arms tighter around herself like a child.

Everything was so dry. So empty.

So dead.

Whenever she managed to engrave the tiniest sliver of burns and cuts into her heart, they were startled away by a deviant seemingly born to terrorize her till she was able to hack it to death with the brunt end of her staff. That splintering edge was all she had now, her mana eaten away by the endless battles she had been forced to fight to survive.

And after, nothing. No feeling other than that from her physical body and even that had come to fade away. Only numb.

What Helena wouldn’t give to feel hunger, pain, sadness, thirst. What she wouldn’t sacrifice to be able to desire something other than continued existence, to think past the violence required to survive.

Her shoulders shook as she pressed her tarnished hands against her face with a low groan. Fingers prodded against her eyelids, searching for any hint of liquid. 

_Please. Just one drop._

Then, she remembered.

With lips turned down, teeth bared, and face hot, a racked sob was wrenched from her body as the phrase she had forced herself to forget came barrelling into her mind.

_Brother Sebastian, with a single tear drop sinking deep into his smile as golden light shone like a halo through stained glass._

_No longer was he just a brother or a simple prince, but a husband._

_“As Andraste as my witness, I give myself to you. My body, my heart, and my kingdom are yours with a single word. I vow to provide you with all you desire, to care for you in your ills, to lend you strength in your struggles, and to stay by your side. No matter where you are, Helena Hawke, I will always find you, be it the furthest corners of Thedas, or the deepest trenches of the fade, you will never walk alone.”_

“I love you.” 

It shook when she said it, hardly making it through her tight throat and choked sobs. Even as she felt her hands and arms coated in tears fire stirred within her. 

“I love you.” 

Harder, enunciated, brows narrowing as her teeth grit and her eyes forced open through the tears. Air filled her lungs, harsh but fueling the burn that blazed in her heart, its beat erratic and powerful, punching against her ribs. Distant screeches reached her ears from monsters unseen, the sky flashing with light and the air tasting of electricity as if the fade had felt the fire storming within her. As frost stirred in her fingers she watched life trickle around her, eyes peering in and hisses approaching from every direction as they closed in.

She sucked in a breath. 

_I love you._

Helena gripped her staff and spun it in an arc, launching hundreds of sharpened icicles into the faces of beasts that screamed.


End file.
